The Mage's Curse
by DragonEyeZ
Summary: Deals with insanity, hallucinations and blood, and features the ranger of Mielikki. Not for the faint of heart.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not, have never, and will never, own the copyright of the characters appearing in this story._

_A/N: Angst. Insanity. Hallucinations. Rated PG-13 for the same reasons… Not for the faint-hearted. _

_And no, I'm not insane, but felt it had been some time since I last came up with a good angst-story… R&R and tell me what you think. And yes, the title has something to do with it._

The Mage's Curse 

His eyes followed the red drop as it slithered down the wall, encountered a small outcropping, and collected at the tip, growing to three times its original size. With something that seemed like abandon, it relinquished its hold and fell almost gracefully through the air, landing with a tiny blob in the puddle that filled the room and disappearing in the other blood.

Shivering, he closed his eyes, yet the picture would not leave. He saw them, again and again, lying on the floors with their throats cut. He saw the blood flowing from the cuts, tainting the floor and dripping softly from the walls where it had been spilled.

Could bodies contain this much blood? Enough to fill this whole room..? His mind refused to handle it, and he pulled his knees up to his chin, hiding his face against them in an attempt to shut the pictures out. But they prevailed, appearing before his eyes even as his eyelids covered them. Another shiver ran though him, and he clutched at his head, the slight pain distracting him just the tiniest.

_//It was all your fault.// _

His mind was a jumble.  He saw their faces, as they were when they had been alive, but the shadow of them, dead, still hovered over his thoughts, obscuring the images and twisting them into images of dead and life in one.

The silent drip-drip of blood falling to the floor, adding to the pool already covering the room. His dearest friends in the centre of the room, their lifeless eyes looking at him as if asking why he had allowed this to happen.

"Not my fault..," he whispered, yet his voice was not the slightest convincing.

Drip-drip-drip. The red drops steadily fell, splattering onto the walls.

_//They came for you. And you led them straight into the trap, even though you knew it was there…//_

He shuddered, trying to shy away from the blood, already feeling filth covering him that no amount of water ever would be able to clean away.

_//They trusted you… And you failed them…//_

Black hands mindlessly tugged at his white hair, his eyes focusing again on a drop making its way down the opposite wall. His chest pained as a sob escaped him.

"My fault..," he whispered, closing his eyes as another shiver ran through his body.

Their names.. What were their names? His mind would not cooperate, would not tell him. Drip-drip-drip, the droplets fell steadily, like the ticking of a clock.

He took a steadying breath, trying to tell himself it was not true. Yet, it was there. Walls, floor, ceiling, door.. Everything was coated in the blood. Blood everywhere… 

The dripping continued, barely audible, yet there. The only focus in the hellworld he was in. His worst nightmare come true.

His eyes flickered to the door. He had pounded it, clawed at it, begged and yelled to be let out of the room – to be let away from the blood dripping softly. Yet, they had refused, claiming it was for his own best. 

Drip, drip, drip… Unaffected by his emotional distress, the drops continued to fall all around him, slithering down the walls, dropping from the ceiling and running from the cut throats. 

It tickled through the dwarf's beard, as if searching its way through the tangled mass to join the rest of the blood on the floor. Droplets dotted auburn tresses, splattering her features. A tiny mace, glistering with the liquid, was still clutched in the lifeless hand of its owner…

Drip. Drip. Drip…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two:**  
  
Catti-brie felt a tightening in her chest, watching the drow sitting in the corner. His breathing was uneven, and his once fair mane was tangled and torn from where he had pulled it when the nightmares he saw grew too real for him. However, none had any idea of what he saw – though it was clear he was currently in a living hell.  
  
She sighed, not realising the sound escaping her until it was too late. Drizzt looked up, his eyes for a brief moment focusing on her instead of the centre of the floor, but there was no sign of recognition in those lavender orbs. It frightened her, she had to admit, the glassy look in his eyes, empty as if he had lost all hope in life. They had heard him screaming from time to time, begging to be released from the room that they were forced to keep him in.  
  
It had started as an orc hunt like all the others, one that the Companions of the Hall had joined forces in once more for barely more than another adventure in the long list they had. And everything had gone as planned – and Drizzt had alongside Guenhwyvar made his own way through the orc lair. That was, until he had reached the mage.  
  
None of the others had the least idea of what had happened – and as Aegis-Fang had been successfully launched at the skinny orc wizard before they had found out what exactly had hurt the drow elf, their chances of ever finding out were slim. No change had appeared at first glance – Drizzt had been shocked by a vision of some sort, an illusion, and it was not something that they considered more dreadful than what a peaceful night's sleep could solve.  
  
However, that was far from the truth. It had begun with nightmares, terrible ones that the elf had not wished to talk about, but had steadily brought him further down until he reached the point where they truly realised how serious the matter was.  
  
He had not eaten for days, and he shunned away from any kind of liquid as if it was burning fire, his eyes wild with terror. It was but the tiny, frail ray of hope that a counter against this could be found that kept the four remaining friends from extracting their pity on him and aid him to leave his misery.  
  
Alustriel herself had been there, seeking counsel with many spirits to try and determine the elf's illness – but to no avail. It seemed, she had told, that the many terrors the drow elf had seen through his lifetime finally had gotten to him, and whatever occurred to him in the orc lair had been the final straw that had begun the ascent into madness.  
  
Was there, in fact, any hope of a cure, the human idly wondered, the sight of her life-long friend sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees as if he was but a child, rocking silently back and forth, his eyes still locked at the invisible forms at the centre of the floor.  
  
Did he see her at all? And if he did, what did his mind turn the image of her into?  
  
Feeling tears pushing at the back of her eyes, she silently turned, closing the door behind her again, once more leaving the drow alone to the nightmares only he could see.

A/N: SORRY for taking this long to update! But though it's a short chapter, it's here. Hopefully, the next installment will come faster.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

He hugged his knees, silently rocking back and forth, sitting in one of the few places in the room that wasn't wet with blood. The steady drip drip dripping continued, unaffected by his mental condition, steady as a clock and yet in such an awkward pace that it never stayed the same.  
  
Why...? He whispered to himself, the words ghosting across his dry lips.  
  
_Why indeed? Why did you have to do what you did?_  
  
He had entered the cave with Guenhwyvar, as they so often had done. Orcs had fallen to all sides as they had made their way through. Right until they entered that cave. He had, of course, turned to plunge Icingdeath into the belly of the orc coming at him from behind. But, it had been no orc. Instead, Catti-brie had stared at him with disbelief in her eyes, as if she had trouble understanding what happened – just as he did. Then, she dropped to the floor, the scimitar slipping out of her torso.  
  
He had heard the chanting behind him. Felt the blast of pain in his back, seeming to spread all through his body in mere seconds, and blinding his thoughts. He was at his feet again, as always, bringing his blades out wide to take down another two orcs in the throat - only to see Wulfgar and Bruenor drop to the floor, lifeless. His blade followed them, his hand refusing to keep its grip as he only could stare in dread at what the horror he just had commited.  
  
What was it precisely that had happened afterwards? He remembered the sound of someone yelling, screaming his name. Then, the mage was flying into the wall at his side, driven in by some shining object that seemed awfully familiar. Arms grabbing his, guiding him out.  
  
It seemed like a dream those next couple of days. He had seen them, his dearest of friends, breathing and alive. Talking. Eating. Sparring. Yet, he knew it was but an illusion – a desire wrought by his mind's inability to accept his crime.  
  
Unwillingly, a sob escaped him, his vision blurring as he once more locked his gaze on the lifeless forms on the floor. They had died. Not because of him, but by him... His worst nightmare had indeed come true...


	4. Chapter 4

AN: _Disturbing Dreams – this story is not written to show Drizzt going insane and killing his friends. Secondly, it is supposed to be vague and without very detailed descriptions. I require for the readers of this story to be able to think a bit on their own. This is a story about a disease of the mind, and apart from the attack on the orcs, no more scenes of people getting killed in the "real" world will appear – 'less my muse decides to go rampant…._

_That being said, HUGE thankyous to the many people who have reviewed. Please keep them coming, and you will see this story be updated (though how often that will be, I cannot promise). Don't forget that the more your reviews contain about what you're thinking has happened/will happen, the faster the plotbunnies will bite._

** Chapter four:  
**

The crystalline structures within the gem reflected the light of his candle, sending it into strange patterns on the walls, ceiling and floor, bathing the dim room in a reddish glow. Slightly mesmerized, as always, by its spinning and turning, Regis allowed his thoughts to drift back to their raid on that orcish lair.

They had heard the vague sounds of battle drifting down the hallway, signalling that Drizzt and Guenhwyvar were close. The companions had entered the room, just in time to see the mage finish his spell and launch a dark ray of magic at the drow. Drizzt had cried out, obviously in pain, but immediately had been ready again, and took out the final two orcs in the room. Then, a look of utter horror had been painted on his face as he looked at the stabbed orcs, about the same time as Aegis-Fang buried the mage in the wall. Wulfgar had grabbed Drizzt, pulling at him to get him out of the room – to a safe place where the companions could make sure their friend wasn't hurt.

Regis forced his thoughts to focus, concentrating on the look on the elf's face as he looked towards the pile of dead orcs – the look of someone who had just seen his closest friends die edged onto his face…

The halfling found his mind back at the present instantly, thoughts churning as they tried to process the information he just had found. It was the only thing, he knew, that the drow had always feared more than anything, even though it had never been said out loud.

A frown creased his forehead as he wondered what precisely could have happened. None of them had seen anything before Drizzt had slain the two orcs, and therefore did not know precisely what had struck him. Yet, even if he had seen the illusion of his friends being killed, then why had his condition only worsen? He had spoken to them, though visibly shaken, and addressed them by name – meaning that he had known the other Companions were still alive.

Regis shook his head, clearing it of the magical mist of the gem, and dropped the pendant back to its safe place beneath his shirt. Drizzt had to believe he had killed his friends, as that was the only possible cause of what could have bought him out this far, and, as a result, they had to try and make him realise nothing had happened to them.

The question, though, he thought while chewing on his lip, was how to make that happen….


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five:**

Wulfgar sighed, watching the resting elf sitting on the floor, supported by the wall behind him. Drizzt had at end, seemingly exhausted completely by what images he saw and the lack of both food and sleep over the last days, fallen into a form of reverie.

The barbarian leaned against the wall as well, watching his resting friend and comrade-in-arms. He had no idea what dreams passed through the drow's mind, but he hopes – nay, prayed – that it was something peaceful, and unlike the nightmare scenarios Drizzt seemed to watch when awake.

The unused bed stood along the opposite wall, and currently only served as sitting for those who came in the hopes of aiding the dark elf in some way. Until recently, Catti-brie had occupied it, watching over her friend, right until Wulfgar had arrived and told her to go and get some rest herself, while he took over the watch.

However, the barbarian's thoughts were interrupted when Regis suddenly entered the room, the halfling holding his ruby necklace in one hand. In a hushed voice, he explained of his suspicions of Drizzt seeing them as dead, and of how he had thought to use the pendant to hypnotize the elf – just enough to get him out of the trance he was currently in, and, hopefully, manage to tell him that nothing had happened to them.

Wulfgar frowned, knowing the trouble Regis' pendant had brought them in the past, but figured it was worth attempting – it was a miracle Drizzt was still conscious at this point, as he had gotten neither food or water in the past four days, and even through the elf's clothes, it was clear he had lost a lot of weight.

Though he hated to see Drizzt's rest disturbed, he knew that they could easily risk he would not wake up, should they wait much further, and he nodded his approval of the idea, then watched as their halfling friend waked over to the drow elf.

Grabbing the elf's shoulder, Regis gave Drizzt a light shake, just enough to stir him from his sleep, before he took a step back, fearing the elf would shy away from him – as he had previously when they had attempted to touch him. And, as the elf awoke, and turned his gaze to the halfling, Regis sent the ruby pendant spinning and prayed.

A/N:_ It appears that the chapters for this story are short. Sorry, guys. But, in turn, think of the fact that I'll be able to update faster. In fact, I already have the next chapter typed out, so I'll just need you to drop two more reviews, and you'll have the new chappie updated... Cackle  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six:**

Though he had before managed to resist the pull of sleep, fearing to have his nightmares turn worse in his dreams, the pull had become too strong at end, and he had nodded off. To his relief, his dreams were meaningless, as his mind brought him back to the time where he had spent a full night, looking up at the stars, and, as a result, did not have any familiarity with the living nightmares he saw when awake.

Suddenly, something shook his shoulder, pulling him from the peaceful land of dreams. Immediately aware, he looked around in surprise, for a few seconds thinking he was sitting in his own room, Regis shaking him awake and Wulfgar standing by the door – as if he had merely fallen asleep against the wall. But, just as sudden, he remembered what happened, and he noticed that almost nothing had changed in the room.

His eyes turned to his side, seeing the ghastly appearance of Regis standing there, the halfling's once cherubic face twisted with agony.

"Drizzt," Regis' ghost whispered, an unspoken question within that voice, holding up his hand, showing the covering of blood that hung from the transparent fingers, forming a single, large drop.

The drow knew what the question was. 'Why did you do it?' 'Why did you kill us?'

_Your fault…_, the voice within his mind whispered again, and, once more, Drizzt felt his vision blur as tears filled his eyes.

He turned his gaze downwards again, not being able to meet the accusing gaze of his now dead friend.

"Leave me alone..," he whispered, praying that if the ghosts would abandon him, the bodies and the blood would disappear as well.

A/N: Happy new year, everyone. I keep my promises. If you wish to see what the others will react to Drizzt's words, make sure I get FIVE reviews for this chapter… Cackle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven:**

Regis nearly back-pedalled when hearing the hoarse words leave the drow elf's cracked and dry lips, but the halfling managed to keep his composure. He looked down at the sitting elf, then at his pendant, and back at the elf again, not quite understanding what had failed. Though Drizzt had only given ruby a short glance, it usually had been enough to ensnare most people, but the drow had appeared completely unaffected – even though Drizzt had managed to resist the temptation Creshnisbon had presented him with, his current state was too weak for his mind to put up much resistance. It was simply as if even the pendant could not penetrate the layer of illusion before the elf's eyes.

Turning to Wulfgar, Regis gave an apologetic shrug, without words telling him that the idea had failed. Judging from the look on the barbarian's face, it was something Wulfgar had expected.

With a sigh, the halfling turned to their friend again, wondering what they could do to help him, apart from just waiting and watching. The dwarven clerics had explained that though they could use healing spells to keep the lack of food and water from harming Drizzt, they had no idea if their spells could interact with the dark elf's mind and result in something unexpected…


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter eight: **

He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, and hoped that sleep would come to him again. But, the quiet dripping of blood distracted him, and he found that rest eluded him, and, with it, the peaceful dreams that had brought solace to his broken mind.

Yet, though he could not fall asleep again, he refused to open his eyes, not yet wishing to once more gaze upon the corpses of his friends – nor did he wish to face the accusing gazes from their ghosts, as they came and went. There was almost always one of them, floating around the room and over the bodies, though, thankfully, neither had attempted to touch him. They had, in the beginning, reached for him with their icy hands, whispering the punishment the gods would extract upon him for having slain those who thought themselves their friend, and he had shied away, beyond the reach of those unmerciful hands that promised naught but more despair and torment.

To his relief, they had not attempted to grab him since, to bring to his soul the icy coldness that he had brought theirs. Never before had he feared death, always expecting his end to be found on the battlefield. Yet, now, facing his worst nightmare, he found death to be the last he wished for – it was hard enough for him to face the ghastly, pained images of his friends as they were, and he knew he could not yet manage to face them in the afterlife as well.

He could hear their muffled voices, speaking from the realm of the death, time and again letting him know what he had brought upon them, of how he had betrayed them…  
_  
_

_A/N: Reviews! Me wantsa reviews!_


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update.. I forgot... But here's 4 chapters to make up for it.

**Chapter nine:**

The fourth day of Drizzt's illness had passed, and despite Regis' attempts to use the ruby pendant, nothing they had tried had had any apparent effect on their drow friend. The four had seated themselves around one of the tables in the meeting hall normally used to receive guests and representatives from other cities, and were trying to aid each other to come up with a solution that could possibly work.

Yet, almost everything that they could think of was something they had either already tried, or could figure would not work – such as Bruenor's desperate suggestion of dropping a rock on Drizzt's head.

"I just ain't be understandin'..," Catti-brie muttered. "When we're standin' in front of him and talkin' ta him, how come he doesn't see or hear us?"

"It's a mystery I'm afraid we can't solve until we manage to cure him," Regis replied with a sigh, sagging in the chair.

The drow's illness had affected all of them – Regis had lost most of his appetite, and everyone knew Bruenor had not had a single fit of rage since their drow friend had started to see things that were not there.

They had abandoned their shifts in watching over their drow friend, seeking the comfort and support from the others as they began talking about what could be done. They all doubted Drizzt would survive more than a few days longer, unless his eating and drinking-habits changed, and the thought alone frightened them all.

"Maybe… Maybe there's a potion?" Catti-brie suggested, her red eyes betraying her attempt to hide her tears from the others. "Some form o' antidote that can cure him? One that the others haven't found yet?"

"Even Alustriel couldn't find a cure," Bruenor sighed, staring at the surface of the table, as if he tried to read the solution to their friend's illness within the wood.

"We don't have a hope," Regis meekly added. "There's nothing we can do."

A long silence passed between them, each carefully glancing at the others, trying to discern if the halfling was telling the truth neither of them would accept, or if one of them would come up with some form of idea that they had not tried yet.

"We should go to him," Wulfgar said at end. "We may not be able to help him, and he may not be able to see us, but.. I know that it'd ease my mind, knowing I was there when he.. he…" The barbarian's voice cracked, not able to speak the word that they all hated to associate with their life-long friend. Swallowing, Wulfgar continued: "When he passes away. And I think it would be the best – for all of us…"

The other three around the table slowly nodded their agreement, and they rose from the table, leaving behind what little they had ate while talking, and headed for the chamber that they all now knew so well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten:**

He felt them rather than saw them. They entered the room, mere shadows, never fully where he focused. Their voices were distant as they spoke together, the meaning of the words lost to him. His body ached, protesting against the lack of food and sleep over the last long time.

There was an egging call in his mind, a silent suggestion of lie down and let go of it all. The desire to do so had steadily grown over the last day – if it had not been more. He had long since lost track of time. Yet, his fear of facing those of his friends who he had slain kept his spirit fighting for now. He dared not face them – their ghostly appearances were already torture enough for him.

One of them moved towards him, hand outstretched as to either help or to grab.. Catti-brie. It had to be her. She was the only of the spirits that was tall enough to be human, and slender enough to be female.

As she approached, the calm expression of something close to worry that lay on her face faded, replaced with a gruesome snarl, promising pain and anguish.

Closing his eyes, he pulled back into himself, knees drawn tightly against his chest as he tried to shield out the horrifying sight of the woman he had once loved of all his heart.

He could feel her pause, and, wondering if she was about to speak her damnation of him, he looked up at her, meeting those cloudy eyes that once had had the same colour as the ocean.

She stood silent, hand raised, poised to strike, to grab and tear. Seconds passed. Then her hand descended, and he shut his eyes closed again, prepared for the feel of his soul being torn from his mortal shell.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter eleven:**

It was hard to say what pained her the most. The sight of Drizzt's eyes so filled with terror and sorrow, or that he shied away from her when she reached out for him.

Catti-brie hesitated when he pulled into himself, wondering for a few moments if she should proceed with her movement – and if it would be wise in the first place. Swallowing, meeting the dull lavender gaze as he met her eyes once more, she decided it could do no more harm, and brought her hand into contact with his shoulder.

His eyes immediately shut, the arms around his knees tightening their grip, as if he was preparing for a hit from an unseen enemy.

She could feel his tremble under her palm as she pressed the flat of her hand against him. However, as he did not push her away, she reached out with her other hand, placing it on the opposite shoulder.

His trembling increased, though it was not wrought completely of fear, and she reacted almost instinctively, sliding one hand up to his neck, and carefully pulled the drow into her embrace.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: The story isn't over yet, just before you think this is the end...**  
**

**Chapter twelve**:

He had expected the coldness of the grave. He had expected pain beyond anything he had ever experienced. Yet he had not expected the warmth radiating from the woman's hand, the feel of life flowing through it, and such tenderness that it nearly made his heart break in two.

He kept his eyes closed, literally shivering with mixed emotions – a feel that only increased when another hand, as warm and caring as the other, touched his other shoulder. Suddenly, the warm hand were at his neck, and he felt himself being pulled into a hot embrace, the coldness of his own skin seeming to be more like the grave than that of the one hugging him.

A sob fled him as he curled up within the comforting arms, the sound of a heart pulsing near his ear driving away the soft sounds of blood dripping from the walls and ceiling. His eyes closed, he could not see the accusing stares of his dead friends, and the arms surrounding him shielded him against the fear of feeling the clammy touch of death.

Other hands touched him – a large, heavy one that could only belong to Wulfgar, rested on his back. Bruenor's callused hands, worn from wielding a smith's hammer and an axe for centuries, patted his own, and he could feel Regis' smaller hands petting his knee in support.

For one of the few times in his long life, Drizzt Do'Urden allowed his tears to flow, safe within the embrace of Catti-brie, and surrounded by the warm, living, breathing creatures that told him his visions had not come to pass.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen:**

His eyes focused on the red drop as it slowly fell down the wall, noticing that it left no trace in its wake. It had taken a long while for him to be able to banish the images of his friends as corpses, but, for reasons that remained unknown to him, he continued to see blood splattered on walls, ceilings and floors. At least, he thought, as his eyelids dropped to hide the sight, he could block that vision out. Only in absolute silence did he still hear the faint dripping, as he did now in the sleeping mine.

Feeling just a tiny twinge of fear, a lingering result from the days where he had thought the illusions to be true, he turned to his side and slid his hand over the mattress, feeling the cloth move lightly under his touch until they came in contact with warm skin.

As always, the tips of his fingers lightly brushed over her chest, taking comfort in the feel of her soft heartbeats, and he let out a soundless sigh of relief at the feel of life within her. He carefully shuffled closer, enveloping the resting female within his arms, and pulled her close.

Catti-brie stirred then, waking from her slumber. He could feel her eyes on him, before she gently touched his eyelids, as if trying to see the world the way he most often did.

"Ye still be seein' it..?" she softly asked, her voice easily drowning the ghostly sounds of blood falling.

The drow nodded slowly, feeling the woman carefully press her lips against his covered eyes, as if she was attempting to banish what he saw from his mind, before she curled up against him again. Soon, her breathing slowed, telling that she had fallen asleep again, and Drizzt carefully pulled her closer against him, trying to dispel the visions he saw by focusing on the feel of her touch.

After that faithful day where it had been the warmth and pulse of the woman that had made him realise he had not killed his friends, as he had believed, things had quickly escalated. He had been unable to sleep at night without nightmares, and they had only stopped when Catti-brie, in an attempt to let him rest, had spent the night near him. As it had been a success, and he had slept peacefully throughout the night, they had done the same the following night, and, not long after, brought the nights to contain more than just sleeping in the arms of each other.

A light smile briefly crossed his face as he recalled the fond memories, though even they could not banish the slowly, nagging feeling of dread within his stomach. When he looked upon the walls, seeing past the illusions his mind painted on them, he felt it as if they were closing in on him, trapping him in a room that seemed far too small.

Swallowing, feeling the need to get a mouthful of fresh air, the elf carefully extracted himself from Catti-brie, dressed in a simple shirt and breeches, and left the room behind.

Silence reigned within the quiet hallways, only the faint snoring of a dwarf or two breaking it when he passed by a door that contained an inhabited room. Yet, as he passed a small corridor, he caught sight of a figure out of the corner of his eye.

Turning his head, he felt his heart skip a beat, seeing nothing less than Bruenor lying, dead, in a pool of his own blood.

Taking a deep, rattling breath, the dark elf reminded himself that it was not true – that it could not be true. Resisting the urge to drop into despair, he willed his legs to carry him to the still figure, and brushed his fingers against the red beard, meeting nothing but empty air.

Feeling dizzy, realising that the ghostly image of the dwarven king did not vanish when he found it to be an illusion – as the illusions had done before – he felt the floor beneath him move slightly, and the need for fresh air grow stronger.

Fighting not to run, he walked, in a fast pace, down the remainder of the passages, gave a brief nod to the guards near the entrance, and passed through the heavy doors out of the mine and out to the vastness of Icewind Dale.

He walked a few paces, before turning his back against the stone and leaning his head against it, hoping the coolness of the night would help dispel his visions. His eyes closed, he took a few steadying breaths before opening them again, finding his gaze turned towards the stars.

For a while, he watched the twinkling lights, so high above his head, dwelling in the peace and calm that they offered despite the distance between him and them. No redness painted the clear sky, giving his mind a rare respite from the carnage and blood he saw everywhere else he looked.

He watched the stars turn and twinkle until his neck started to ache, unused to support his head in this position for a prolonged period of time, and then returned his gaze to the ground, mentally bracing himself for seeing the vast plains of Icewind Dale covered with the blood he saw.

However, the sight that greeted him when his eyes fell on the ground made him gasp and clutch the rock behind him for support. He had thought to see the usual blood, covering everything, and flowing from unseen sources, perhaps even a slain person or two. But, instead, he was greeted with nothing less than a massacre. Everywhere he looked, he saw people, many of which he knew, dead, beaten and mutilated lying on the ground or over the rocks that lay scattered across the plain.

Dwarves lay side by side with humans, elves near drow, and even creatures he had only caught glimpses of. Alustriel, the great sorceress, lay plopped up against a large rock, her stomach brutally guttered and her innards spilling over a dress that once had looked grand. Not far away, he spotted Kellindil, the elf's head only half-attached to his body, and, beside the dead friend, was Guenhwyvar.

A sob escaped Drizzt as he could see how the panther had been brutally cloven in two, and he turned his gaze from the sight of the three, only to find more of his age-old friends lying dead. Even Mooshie appeared, bearing the clear signs of having been slain by orcs, instead of having had the peaceful death from old age that Drizzt himself had witnessed.

His vision blurred, thankfully erasing most of the familiar features on many of the corpses, yet, they did not vanish. Staggering, clinging to the rocky wall for support, he stumbled back towards the dwarven mine, already dreading what his mind would convert the place he called home into….


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen:

Tears running silently down his cheeks, his mind stubbornly arguing that what he saw could not be real, yet, even though his eyes were closed, he could feel the ground and the rocks he used for support were slick with blood, as if the nightmare was real. Normally, touch would have convinced him otherwise, but it seemed that he could not even trust this sense any longer. Shivering, he paused, his nostrils filled with the stench of death, and he found the voice arguing it was all an illusion to grow weaker and weaker. He tried to focus on the thought of Catti-brie and her warmth, yet his mind twisted it, turning it to a far more gruesome sight.

A sob escaping his lips, thoughts churning in his mind that he could not stop, Drizzt fell to his knees in despair and clutched his head as if trying to squeeze out the visions.

"They're not dead.. They're not dead.. They're NOT dead..," he whispered to himself as he rocked back and forth, trying to will his senses to accept the mantra as the truth. "They're not dead…"

Fighting the steadily rising feeling of panic and despair, he forced his legs to work beneath him, in a whisper telling his body what to do – if nothing else, then in the attempt to drive out the spiteful and almost gleeful voice that once again had entered his mind, telling him that he had been the cause of all those deaths.

"Left foot forward, place on ground… Right leg forward, keep weight on left, place foot on ground..," he muttered, putting every ounce of focus he could into the relatively simple motion of walking.

Opening his eyes, it took all of his willpower to look straight ahead at where he could see the entrance to the dwarven mines, and not glance to the sides and see the corpses that lay where they had been slain. Shivering, feeling an unnatural chill within his body, he pressed on, clinging desperately to the thought that it was all naught but illusions, and turned his gaze towards the ground, seeking respite from the carcasses as he continued his stumble towards the mine.

A soft voice called his name, and he turned his eyes upwards again, seeing a figure walk towards him. He easily recognized Catti-brie, but, to his horror, she appeared to constantly flicker from a living, breathing creature into a horribly mutilated corpse. Shutting his eyes, fighting to keep his breath under control as panic threatened to overtake his senses, he blocked out the image of the human female.

Warm arms wrapped around him, holding him in a tight grip that usually would have been uncomfortable, but, at the moment, allowed him to sense the soft pulse of her heart and thusly her life. He buried his head by her shoulder, hearing her hum soft nonsense as she clearly understood what plagued him, and did what she could to help him. A soft sob escaped the drow elf as he clutched her desperately; the memory of what his brain twisted his eyes to see in her stead burned into his mind and refusing to leave him. As it was now, only the feel of her kept his final shred of sanity from disappearing.

"'Tis okay," she gently muttered, holding him and rocking him gently as if he was a child. "I'm here. Nothing's happened…"

A/N: I'm sorry for the late update. My inspiration decided to try bungee-jumping the Empire State Building, and haven't yet returned. I'll try and update the next chapter faster, but I cannot, at the current moment, make any firm promises.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Uhm, well…I felt as if the story kept running its head against the wall, and I think this chapter has been through 15 or 20 rewrites so far. The story didn't want to be any longer… Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to drop a review stating your thoughts on this story (and don't bite my head off for not making it longer or more detailed – it started going truly downhill for me at the ninth chapter…)

Chapter fifteen:

He sat, as he had so often, at the very top of the cliff, his eyes looking towards the horizon. He had continued his near life-long tradition, seeking the temporary break the sunrise gave him as the rays of light slowly crept over the edge of the mountains, the heat blinding his finely tuned heat-vision, and burning away the images he saw. Yet, even that respite was only momentary, as his eyes would return to normal vision on their own due to the strong heat, and thusly letting him see the vision of blood and carnage stretching over the floor of Icewind Dale.

Tears blurred his vision as his mind futilely screamed against what he could not only see, but now also feel and scent, and though he knew in his heart it was but an illusion, his battered soul was unwilling to accept the fact. Drawing a shuddering breath into his lungs, the sunrise bringing no solace, he longed for something that could banish the visions from his sight again. Earlier, he had found that relief in the arms of Catti-brie, yet now, not even the feel of the vibrant young woman could dispel the illusions. Instead of the warm skin, he found blood and gore meeting his hands, her usual scent replaced with the stench of death, and her once beautiful face had been twisted into that of an undead.

Drawing his leg up, he wrapped both arms around his knees and hid his face in them, blocking out the visions. Had it only been his eyes that had been fooled, he would willingly have blinded himself, and had indeed tried, although Wulfgar had managed to stop him before he succeeded. But, instead of merely his sight, all of his senses found these illusions, and though he knew, deep down, it was not true, the constant horror was slowly, but steadily, tearing his very spirit apart.

Alustriel has, along with several other mages and clerics, examined the cave in which Drizzt's hallucinations first had started, and though they had found the faint remains of a spell meant to invoke terror by displaying the affected's worst nightmares, it seemed to have misfired against the drow elf, instead causing all his fears to surface and cross with reality to the point where he could no longer distinguish one from the other.

Turning his face upwards again to the sun, the blinding light burning away the visions he saw, and caused his eyes to sting enough for his ears to block out sounds as well. Squinting instinctively, though holding his eyelids apart with sheer willpower, he ignored the tears that began streaming down his face as his body tried futilely to protect his vision from the intense light. As always, figures danced before his eyes along with black spots, but this time, to his surprise, they appeared to melt together and formed a figure that he knew well within his heart.

"Mielikki..," he whispered in surprise and awe, watching as the goddess' shape stood out clearly against the sunlight.

Her lips moved, and he heard his name being called as she reached out with a hand. A look of deep compassion was on her face, yet, it also promised salvation. He rose on his feet, his legs trembling slightly as his balance was affected by his continued squinty against the sun, and took an unsteady step forward. Again, Mielikki called his name, stretching her hand further towards him as she offered him a way out of the illusions. He took another step, reaching out with his own hand towards the warmth of the sun and the vision of the goddess. Another step. And another.

His foot suddenly met only empty air, and he found the ground far below him suddenly rising fast. He turned his face to the sun again, the one he had used for his own salvation, however temporary that relief had been, and found Mielikki still there, looking down at him with an unspoken apology in her eyes.

Then, pain shot through his back and he felt the air knocked from his lungs, even as his head went oddly numb. Immediately, the pain lessened, and he felt the strangest sensation running through him as Mielikki bend down and closed her hand against his, and pulled lightly.

Turning his head, he saw the grass near him, and found it to be clear of blood and corpses. There was no signs of the carnage he had seen before, the terrors that had clouded his vision suddenly gone. A smile graced the face of the drow elf, before he followed the goddess' tug and knew no more within the mortal realm…


End file.
